


Never Trust the Quiet Ones

by oleanderedits



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: AU (No Zombie Apocalypse), AU (Vampire), Humor, M/M, Merle's mouth, darlenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-28 04:26:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5077744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oleanderedits/pseuds/oleanderedits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most people live with masks on to cover up and protect who they really are. Sometimes a dirty, angry redneck really can have a heart of gold. Sometimes a quiet, but smart-mouthed, pizza boy can suck the life out of you. Literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Kid is dead, long live the Kid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrowSaystheCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrowSaystheCat/gifts).



> The first chapter is a bit on the darker side, but it is not really intended to set the overall tone of the fiction and stands more to set up Glenn and how he got to be where he is when Daryl meets him. The fiction itself is overall a fluff fest.

“Sorry buddy, but I kind of need your life,” the man who was now known as Glenn Rhee sighed and patted the man formerly known as Glenn Rhee on his very dead thigh. He really hadn't wanted to kill the kid. It was just that hopping from one identity to another was getting a lot harder to do. He needed social security numbers and photo I.D. and birth certificates to open bank accounts and get credit lines and basically do anything that didn't involve carrying every single penny he owned on his person at all times. And the last five years he'd had shit luck getting a decent fake that he could use to apply for college scholarships.

The kid formerly known as Glenn Rhee was the man now known as Glenn Rhee's ticket to a better life and a more stable future. He had never had the big vast fortune of wealth that nearly vampire in existence (according to popular media) should have to make their prolonged lives easier. He also didn't have the desire to live in caves or swamps or on the street like the rest of those (popular media) vampires did. During the forties and up through the eighties he'd been able to get away with moving from city to city as a 'recent' immigrant worker or a second generation immigrant with no paperwork to speak of. People hadn't really looked twice at that and he'd been able to open a few bank accounts in smaller towns before the electronic revolution and the background checks that the nineties brought on. Now he could barely access what money he had. He'd needed a new plan.

That plan was free-ride college scholarships and working part time to build his life savings back up. He could easily make the scores on the entrance exams and his grades wouldn't suffer, particularly in the world history department. He'd lived the last four hundred years of it, after all. But getting the legal identity squared away... that was the issue. With the last of the money he could easily access about to run out on him, he'd gotten just a bit desperate.

And then Glenn Rhee walked into his life.

Another Korean kid that looked just enough like him they could have been brothers. He found Glenn at a street race, both of them trying to earn a little extra cash on the side. Him for the everyday needs of paying for a basic apartment on the outskirts of Detroit and Glenn to pay back a loan that he didn't want to go to his parents about. They'd bonded and he'd even go so far as to call Glenn a friend.

But sadly, Glenn had to die so that Glenn could live.

So he had.

Glenn shut his eyes and took a deep breath, then slammed his head forward against the wheel. Hard enough to split his forehead and deploy the passenger's side airbag. Made him pretty groggy, too. Which was good. He needed to be just out of it enough to be believable to the paramedics when they retrieved the two of them and determined his best friend to be dead from the unfortunate wreck.

What a way to end their trip to Atlanta right before the semester started. He'd be heartbroken when they told him the impact to the tree killed his friend immediately. He'd be devastated they couldn't go to school together like they planned. He'd have no idea how to get in touch with his friend's parents, either, since both of them had been disowned for their choices in education.

But he'd power through it.

Glenn was a survivor.


	2. Sugar Sugar

He was three semesters into his American History Major with a Minor in Linguistics (because he could get a better paycheck in the literary translation field if he had both, he'd looked into it) when he met Daryl Dixon. This was not something that would normally throw his plans for a loop. Glenn met people everyday. The problem was that Daryl had seen him feed and had then followed him around for two months before introducing himself.

…

“I saw what you did to my brother back in May,” Daryl drawled out, crossbow leveled at Glenn's chest. He'd had it leveled before Glenn walked through the door of his off-campus apartment. It was such a casual thing, like he pointed the old-fashioned weapon at people on a regular basis. “Close the door, we got a lot to talk about.”

Glenn did as he was asked and opened his mouth, but Daryl cut him off.

“I meant I got a lot ta talk to you about,” he said, eyebrow raising. “You can stand there quiet-like and listen. Nod your head if you understand.”

Glenn nodded, dropping his book-bag to the floor. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the door. The man had him at a disadvantage and he was fully aware of it.

Daryl didn't smile, but he licked his lips and tilted his head to the side, “That's good. Now, as I was saying, I saw what you did to my brother. Back in May. You probably don't remember, though. You don't seem like the type. Which is funny. 'Cause that's how my brother is and you should be nothing like him. Lookin' all innocent and weak. You're good at that.

"If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't believe it,” he conceded, almost sounding impressed. “You had him all riled up. Got him mad enough to drag you outside that bar and around back to my truck. I was driving that night, you see. I was in the truck. Waitin' on his ass. Fell asleep. Woke up to him banging on the door as he pushed you to the ground.

“But you didn't stay down, did you? You got your hands on some sick piece of wood and when he came at you, you cracked him good. Right in the face. So hard he spun like a top before he went down. And I laughed at that.”

He grinned finally, “I honestly did. Thought it was 'bout time Merle got his from someone he weren't expectin' it from. Funniest shit I'd seen in a decade, him lookin' like a ballerina 'fore he hit the ground.”

Daryl gave a chuckle and shook his head and Glenn smiled tentatively, hoping that would be it. That maybe he was just there to pay him back for getting the drop on his brother. Who he was actually starting to remember. That kind of spin was pretty memorable.

“But you didn't stop there,” he continued, his smile dropping away as he shook a finger at Glenn. “No, you didn't. You went up to him and you turned him over and I thought maybe you were gonna add insult ta injury by robbin' him blind. Which would have been fair, I admit. But not you. You go and you remove that wrist cuff of his and you bite into his skin with this look on your face like you just done came in your pants.”

Daryl leaned back on Glenn's couch, one leg propping itself up on the coffee table while that crossbow remained steadily pointed at his chest. The man pulled a cigarette out of his shirt pocket. Stuck it in his mouth and took his time digging around for his ligher. Let Glenn stand there, figiting and wondering where this was going. If he was going to shoot and just make him suffer through the talk or if he was going to warn him off or what. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been threatened. He could deal with that. Maybe even call it self-defense if anyone heard the noise of the fight and came running.

“You were so into it you didn't see me in the cab,” he continued after he let himself have a couple long drags and tapped the first bit of ashes off the cigarette onto the floor. Glenn couldn't help the face he made at the sight. He wasn't the cleanest of house keepers, but he didn't drop ash on the floor. He didn't drop ash at all. He didn't smoke.

“I guess before we get anywhere I should thank you for not killin' Merle,” Daryl said, sounding a little introspective and blowing out some smoke. “Guys a bastard, but he's my only brother. I'd have missed him. And I probably would have killed you right then'n there. Kinda glad I didn't. Cause followin' you around, watchin' you, huntin' you... it's been interestin'.”

Another long drag on the cigarette and it had Glenn wondering if he was doing that on purpose. If he'd been following him for that long, he knew Glenn's appetites. He knew what kind of things Glenn would rather have a mouth like that doing to him. Almost as if the man was thinking the same thing, Daryl very slowly ran his tongue over his lips.

He smirked, and Glenn knew he he had to be doing it on purpose at that point, “Most people, they wouldn't believe in things like you existing. An' it took me a couple weeks to wrap my mind around it. But the way I figure it, if you're real, then some of them stories about your kind are probably real, too. You got money.”

“I have shit for money,” Glenn said, then immediately shut up because Daryl was on his feet and that crossbow of his was a lot closer than it had been. The man was fast. Not something Glenn was used to.

He squinted at him, lip curling up in a sneer, “Don't lie to me, little man. I told you, I been watching. I know what you got. You don't make much on that pizza job of yours, but that deal you got with the chop shop? That's a sweet one. And you got yourself a free ride from the government, too, so you ain't paying for school. You don't spend enough on stupid shit to be going through that money too fast, neither. You got the cash. I want it.”

Glenn shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He could fight this. He could push that crossbow to the side and rip the man's throat out. He could. He didn't like to kill, but he was capable of it.

Or... he could do what Daryl wanted and just deal with it. Go on with the life he'd built for himself and just add in payments to the redneck with his number.

Glenn could kill him. But Glenn had always taken the path of least resistance when it came to survival. Killing Glenn and becoming Glenn had not been an easy decision. He'd taken nearly 8 hours into a 10 hour cross-country drive to get the courage to do it. And he'd rarely ever killed anyone he fed from even if it meant awkwardness later.

He lowered his head and nodded, “How much?”

Daryl studied him for a second, smirked, then dropped his bow to let it dangle from his hand, once more taking a drag from his cigarette, “How much you got?”

…

Glenn flopped down on his couch and handed one of the beers to Daryl, who was over yet again, feet kicked up on the coffee table. This time he was watching some old film on one of the cable channels somewhere in the 100s. Three weeks in and he couldn't seem to get rid of the guy.

“You know, when you said you wanted my money,” Glenn said, stretching his free arm along the back of the couch and putting his feet up next to Daryl's. “I didn't think that would come with being your sugar daddy.”

Daryl kicked his shin and he couldn't hold back the hiss of pain as he pulled his feet back down. The man raised an eyebrow at him and took a drink, “Ain't nobody's bitch, shortround. Least of all yours.”

“No, I'm pretty sure I'm yours,” Glenn agreed, rubbing his leg. “I'm paying for all your beer, the cable upgrade you want, repairs to your truck, those new boots of yours. Are those steel toe?”

“Damn straight.”

“Don't hit me with them again.”

Daryl snorted, then shushed him, “Complain later. Commercial's over.”

“What is this anyway?” he asked, whispering.

“On Golden Pond,” Daryl whispered back. “Now hush up.”

 


	3. Let Me

Things progressed in that awkward almost friendship way for several more weeks and summer bled away into fall. Daryl came around a few times a week with bills he needed paid and the occasional demand for a couple hundred in cash so he had spending money. The fridge was expected to be stocked with his favorite beers and at least three packs of is preferred cigarettes kept in one of the side tables next to the sofa. He got his cable channels and what new clothes he did pick up were usually tucked away in an overnight bag in the small coat closet. And of course he got a house key.

They'd been sharing space long enough that Glenn was no longer worried about getting hurt or having to prepare to defend his life if he backtalked. Daryl sometimes kicked him or punched his shoulder, occasionally slapped him upside the head, but he wasn't about to kill him. It didn't take much to figure out that Daryl had been using his apartment as some sort of escape from whatever troubled him normally.

Glenn didn't understand the point of it. If Daryl wanted an escape, he could have just asked for a few thousand dollars and run off somewhere. But on the whole, the requests weren't cutting into his ability to save that much. Daryl never asked him to take time off from his job or stick around for anything. Mostly, he was just kind of there. Like a part time roommate. Which he practically was, so when mail started to come to the apartment addressed to Daryl, Glenn wasn't exactly caught off guard. He was a little annoyed, but not really surprised.

The surprise came the day Daryl glanced at the mail and handed it over without looking through any of it, “Looks like bills.”

Glenn took the mail. Not all of them were bills. Some of them were obviously advertisements. But one looked like a card. Glenn glanced over at Daryl while the man retreated to his spot on the couch, digging out his smokes. He had to recognize the card for what it was. And he had to recognize that if Glenn opened it to check for the supposed bill, he'd be reading it. But Daryl just kicked his feet up and turned the television on while he got comfortable.

He decided to leave that one for last and opened all the rest. There were two credit card offers, one credit card bill, one overdue bill for a hospital visit at the start of the year, and a renewal inquiry for _Bowhunter._ Glenn put the bills and the renewal with his bills and the offers in the trash. Daryl didn't look like he cared about checking them out. All that was left was the card. It had no return address.

Glenn turned it over in his hand a couple times before finally sliding his thumb under the open edge and carefully ripping it open. It was an elegant looking thing with off-white embossed lettering on an ivory card stock. The words 'Thinking of You' pressed into the center of the front. He flipped it over to the back to check the price and his eyebrows rose at not finding one. So either it was custom or from a retailer that you didn't ask the prices on.

He glanced over at Daryl again. The man seemed entrenched in whatever it was he'd turned to. Glenn took a deep breath and very carefully opened the card. A very crisp hundred dollar bill sat there, covering up part of the long note written in looping, careful calligraphy. Glenn shut the card and stood up, suddenly very uncomfortable. This was not his mail and he should not be looking at it.

Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he shuffled into the living room and held both out to Daryl. The man eyed him for a moment before accepting the beer. He left the card in Glenn's hand. It looked like he was pretending it wasn't there. So Glenn set it on the coffee table where Daryl could grab it if he wanted to. Then he looked away, feeling embarrassed and not even sure why, “So uh... the credit card and the hospital bill... you want me to pay those in full or just the minimums?”

“Whatever works,” Daryl grunted with a shrug, eyes pointedly on the television.

Glenn nodded slowly, fingers pressing together in that way they did when he couldn't figure out what to do with them. He sucked in another breath, letting his chest puff up a bit, like he was on the edge of yawning. Then he turned and headed for the bedroom, “Well, I've got some studying to do. See you later.”

Daryl didn't answer him. But after he left, a good seven hours later and in the middle of the night, Glenn found the card was gone from where he'd left it. Daryl had moved it at some point, put it in with the 'important' folder on the organizer Glenn had hanging on the kitchen wall.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Glenn pulled it out and finally read it.

…

_Dearest Daryl,_

_Thank you for writing to us. We've missed hearing about and from you. I know it must not seem that way, but please believe that our lack of correspondence was never out of a lack of love. After your mother passed, your father returned many of the letters we sent and after the ones for yours and Merle's birthdays came back without the money we sent along, we thought it better for both of you if we didn't try as hard._

_We'd hoped to hear from you sooner than this. I say we, but it's really just I at this point. Your grandfather passed eight years ago. I'm probably not much longer for this world, either. I'm almost ninety three. I had to have your cousin Austin write this for me._

_But don't take that as us being upset. We know it had to be hard for you. Your letter said as much. But it was very brave of you to reach out to us when you thought we wanted nothing to do with you. But it couldn't be further from the truth._

_I want to meet you, Daryl. I want to see the grandson I've been kept from for so long. Your brother, too, if Merle is willing. We love you. We miss you._

_Please write back soon._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Edith Ann Porter_

_P.S. I know it's not much, but I'm having Austin put some money in here for you. I know you didn't write to us for that, but we have so many birthdays to make up for._

…

Three days later, when Daryl asked him to see about purchasing plane tickets for a short weekend trip, Glenn didn't make any jokes. He did ask if it was for one or two. At which point Daryl looked away and said very softly, “Just one. Merle's in jail.”

Glenn didn't say anything about that, either. He did, however, splurge on first class.

Without telling Daryl.

 


	4. Don't Let Go

Daryl never did thank him for the first class seat. But he did start talking to Glenn more. Showed interest in his life beyond his school and work schedule. What vampires were actually like got brought up a lot. Not many questions all at once, but a trickle of them over time.

…

“So sunlight really don't hurt you? At all?”

(a sigh) “No. Someone made that up a long, long time ago.”

“What about the mirror thing?”

“My body's dead, Daryl. Dead things don't stop having a reflection just because they're dead.”

“But can you see it?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure. I see myself every time I look in a mirror.”

“Then why you dress like that?” (he chuckles and Glenn smiles in spite of himself)

“Ha. Ha. Good one.”

…

“What about garlic?”

(a shrug) “Not my thing, but I don't mind it.”

“Roses?”

(he can't hide his surprise) “...where'd you hear about those?”

“I read some. So...?”

“Anything breathing would die if you shoved roses down it's throat and choked them to death with flowers.”

…

“You're going to ask about the wooden stake thing, aren't you?” (daryl's been looking at him the way he does when he's already figured something out but wanted to talk anyway)

“Might be thinking about it.”

“It's the same as the roses, Daryl. You'd die just as fast if you got stabbed in the heart.”

“Suppose that's true.” (he takes a drag on his cigarette and drops ash into the ashtray. he's been doing that more often.)

…

“Can't you just turn into a bat an' fly?”

“No. That's stupid. And I can't turn into fog, either.” (it would be fun, though)

“What about that Renfield thing? The hypnosis.”

“If I had that, I wouldn't be paying your bills.” (and he'd be mostly naked. maybe wearing tight booty shorts. maybe.)

“...what you lookin' at?”

“Nothing. Just... zoned out for a second.”

…

“You're stronger than you should be.” Daryl was watching him manhandle the fridge because his favorite pen rolled under it.

“Yeah. I guess I am,” Glenn agreed, huffing as he tried not to drag it too hard.

“That normal?”

“For some,” he answered absently as he retrieved his pen and then pushed the fridge back into place with a lot more ease than pulling it out had been. After moment, he turned around and looked at Daryl, head tilted to the side. “Depends on the fangs.”

Daryl raised an eyebrow and gestured at the couch next to him, moving the magazine he'd let drop there. Glenn wandered over to join him. He sat on his knees, though, facing Daryl so he could lean in and lift his lips out of the way. Show him his fangs.

“You don't got none,” Daryl said, leaning in as well, squinting hard, trying to find them.

He held up one finger, then let his fangs fold out from where they hid under what had looked like the gum flaps at the top of his mouth. Daryl backed up, eyes wide. He looked legitimately scared of Glenn, which was a first.

Glenn lifted his hands as if surrendering. Talking with his fangs down was awkward, but he figured Daryl kind of needed to see this. “They're like snake fangs,” he said. “Some of us have longer ones and some have two sets, one on top and one on bottom. The kind of fangs a vampire has is sort of like their ancestry. Which part of the world the one who turned them came from or what lines have mixed over time. Different advantages come from different lines.”

He stuck a finger in his mouth so Daryl could see how long his fangs were compared to his fingernail, “Mine aren't that long and they're really thin. My ancestry comes mostly from the Spanish Conquistadors. Some of them got turned by the Mayans when they were there in the 1400s. They made more like themselves when they got back to Spain. One of them, my uh... I guess creator for lack of better words, he did a tour of the Orient down the Silk Road in the middle of the 1500's. I was one of the kids he picked up in Korea for entertainment on his trip. He really liked me. Thought I liked him. And he turned me.”

Glenn hadn't liked him. Not really. But the man got him out of his poor village and gave him the opportunity to get an education he wasn't likely to achieve otherwise. Treated him as an 'ignorant savage'. Glenn had let him, taking the easy road while he watched and learned. And eventually he'd known enough that he could leave. Just disappear one night and never come back. The world was a big place. He hadn't seen that man again and was very happy for that.

Daryl was leaning in again, cautiously, but the sincere and absolute fear was gone from his eyes. Now there was curiosity, “So you got strength?”

“Yeah. Speed, too. I can't move like the Flash or anything, but I'm faster than most people. Stronger. And I lucked out on finding a vampire to share their ancestry with me about two hundred years ago, so I have that faster than normal healing thing, too.”

“How does that work?” Daryl poked a finger at one of his fangs and Glenn had to pull back.

He shook his head, coughing a couple times before he folded them back up. He grimaced at Daryl in apology, “We feed from each other after one of us have fed. It's like being made into a vampire all over again. One of us is drained to nearly empty, to where the heart is about to give out on us. Then we have to feed from the one that drained us, taking it all back in until they're at the same point. And then the first to be drained is fed from again so that both have enough blood in them to keep going. It's not done often, because there's a lot of trust that goes into it. A vampire is really vulnerable and weak when they're drained. Anyone can just come along and kill them.”

Daryl ran his thumb under his chin before chewing on it in that habit of his, “Who'd you trust?”

“Maggie Greene,” Glenn answered immediately, a fond smile stretching across his face. “Irish immigrant. She was beautiful and newly turned by her father, Hershel. She trusted so easily. Loved so easily. I was with her for twenty years before we got... parted.”

Glenn's smile fell away and he reached over to take Daryl's beer from him. He needed a drink whenever he thought about that. About how she'd died and how awful things had been during those days. “She went west with a group while Hershel and I stayed in Philadelphia. She was going to California to put down roots with her sister, Beth. Hershel and I were going to join them once they wrote they were safely there. They... they never wrote to us.”

“She die?” Daryl asked.

He knew it was coming, but he couldn't bring himself to answer in words. He just nodded and took another drink. He didn't think it would ever be easy to speak of what happened. Fortunately Daryl didn't ask how she died. Or what Glenn and Hershel had done when they found out. It wasn't a good time in his life.

Daryl got up from the couch and fetched the rest of the six pack. He even cracked another one for Glenn and passed it over before taking one for himself. And when Glenn found himself leaning against his shoulder because the tears of that loss had come again, Daryl didn't push him away. He let his arm settle on the back of the couch and allowed Glenn to stay there until he'd fallen asleep.

When Glenn woke up in the morning, a blanket was over his shoulders and a pillow under his head and Daryl was already gone. But the couch was still warm and it smelled like cigarettes. Glenn didn't really mind that anymore.


	5. I Can't Help But Falling

Halloween came around and Daryl stopped. Glenn wasn't worried the first few days of November because, while it was true that Daryl had gotten into the habit of being over five days out of every 7, he still had a life of his own and there were occasions he'd be gone for three or four before showing up again. But then a few days passed into a full week and that week was getting awfully close to being two and while Daryl's mail showed up, Daryl didn't.

Glenn started feeling lonely by the fifth day. By the tenth he was going stir crazy not having his friend around to shoot the shit with. The absence made him very aware of just how used to Daryl's presence he was. How expected it had become. How _normal_ it was.

On the twelfth day, when he decided he was going to find Daryl and figure out what was going on, Glenn also realized just how little he knew about the man outside of the apartment. Sure, he knew his favorite beer. His favorite smokes. His favorite movies. His favorite color. How he liked to chew on his thumb both when he was nervous and when he had nothing to keep his hands still. The way his mouth quirked up in a smile that wasn't quite a smirk when he was actually happy and joking around and not just faking it for whatever reason.

Glenn knew so many details, but he didn't even know where Daryl lived. All the bills now came to the apartment, so they didn't have whatever address they used to go to and he never kept the paperwork past a few days. He didn't really know anything about his family except that he had a brother named Merle and a grandmother his father hadn't let either of them have contact with after their mother died. And that Merle was in jail a lot. He did know Daryl's license plate number, though. And the make and model of his truck. He might be able to work with that if looking up all the Dixon's in the Atlanta area on the internet didn't bring up any viable results.

It would be a lot easier if Daryl had a phone to call.

Glenn sighed and grabbed his wallet, then headed out the door. He could do the web search after he got home. The phone problem was going to be solved immediately. Glenn would just get a second line through his carrier and when Daryl got back or when Glenn found Daryl, he'd have a present waiting for him.

…

Glenn let out a long breath and laid his head on the cool wood of the desk. Andrea, sister of his college friend Amy, sat on the other side going through the paperwork he'd presented her.

“I swear it's all legal,” he muttered. “I'm not pretending to be some backwoods hillbilly named Daryl. I just don't know how to find him anymore.”

She gave an amused snort as she thumbed through the bills, “So he's what? Your boyfriend?”

“Not really,” Glenn answered, lifting his head and putting it on one hand while he looked across at her. He already had the lie planned out. A way to get around the car theft Glenn did on the side and still explain the extra money coming in. “Roommates mostly. I mean, yeah, I pay his bills for him, but it's only cause I have a bank account. He gives... gave me cash a few times a week to cover his expenses. He never said what he did, but he never missed his share of the bills.”

“You live in off-campus housing,” Andrea said slowly, setting the stack of bills to the side and going through what little paperwork Glenn had salvaged that might give her some place to start. “Paid for by your scholarships, the same as your education. All that extra cash that doesn't go to bills and whatever else you buy, it looks like you put that into savings?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “We have an agreement. He gives me what he gives me and I pay the bills and whatever else comes up. Anything left over is put in my savings account. If he needs something, I pay for it and as long as whatever he's given me is greater than whatever I'm paying for, he doesn't have to worry about paying me back.”

She shook her head slowly, putting the last of the papers to the side and leaned back in her chair, “That's some living arrangement you go there.”

“Well, he doesn't have to pay rent, so he gets a lot out of it right there,” Glenn shrugged.

“True enough,” Andrea agreed with a nod. “But you didn't get anything in writing? Anything to make him legally responsible if he defaulted on the agreement?”

He sighed, more of a groan really, and laid his head back down, “I really don't care about his legal responsibility. I just want to know he's okay.”

She reached over and gave his forearm a light shake before rubbing her thumb in a slow circle, tried to comfort him, “I know. Amy said as much. But it's hard to find people when I don't even have a social security number to work with. There are a lot of Dixons in this state and Daryl is common name.”

“What about his brother?” His head jumped up and she raised her eyebrows at him. “His name is Merle. He's in jail a lot.”

“Amy didn't tell me about that,” Andrea said, pulling her hand back to grab her notepad.

Glenn grimaced, “I didn't tell her. When she said you had experience tracking people down because of all the civil rights work you do, I was hoping just the information I had about him would be enough. He doesn't really have a great relationship with his family.”

She snorted again and shook her head, “You're lucky you're Amy's friend. I don't usually invest time in things better left to private investigators.” After a moment she said softly, “She really likes you. I think she has a crush on you.”

“What?!” He knew his eyes had drawn wide. He could feel the skin straining, but he couldn't stop it. Amy was one of the few students on campus he thought of as a friend. One of the people he could hang out with and pretend to have a regular college life with. She was a great person. But he was not attracted to her. “No! No no no no no no! I'm sure you're mistaken. She's a friend. Just a friend. There is no crushing going on. I mean, she hasn't even looked at me like that. Or even hit on me when she was drunk. Not that she gets drunk often. I mean she doesn't get drunk. Ever. She's never been drunk.”

“Stop!” Andrea manged to get out between laughs as her body shook from the force of it. “You don't have to defend her honor to me. But I think you're wrong about the crush. Talk to her later. I'll look into the Merle Dixons with brothers named Daryl. Do you know if he's older or younger?”

“Merle's older. I don't know how much older. He doesn't talk about him a lot,” Glenn answered and looked down at his hand. “I know his brother is racist, though. That's about all. Daryl mentioned the army once so he might be retired military?”

Andrea dutifully took that all down. Then she asked, “You started living together in the summer. You said it was about two months after you first met him?”

“Yeah. We met in May. Very briefly. He just happened to meet me again and we got talking.”

“Alright, so where and how did you meet?”

“A bar. I don't remember which one,” he admitted. He went to so many bars looking for quick hook-ups to feed on that he didn't think it had been worth trying to remember. Not at the time.

“Do you remember what kind of bar it was? A pub style, one with a dance floor, a dive?”

Glenn's face scrunched up as he thought hard about it before once again shaking his head, “No. I go to a lot of bars. Whatever catches my eye after I get off work. Sometimes right after my last run. I'll just hit whatever's closest. And I make runs all over the city. The chain I work for has me at different stores to fill in for other people's shifts since I'm flexible about that.”

Andrea let out a breath and nodded, “Okay. I'll look into this. See what my people can find for you. I'll call you one way or the other. And uh... if you aren't doing anything tomorrow, I'm sure Amy would love to have you join us. We usually go out for Thanksgiving. Nothing fancy, but there are a couple mom and pop places that aren't terrible and stay open for those who don't want to cook. Like me.”

An hour after Glenn left her office, he called her back, told her not to worry about Daryl and invited her and Amy over for a home cooked meal.

…

“I hate you.”

Those were the first words Glenn said as he hung up and slid his phone into his pocket.

Daryl's shit eating grin didn't leave his face. He just held the bird up by it's neck and wiggled it again, “But I got ya turkey.”

“Still hate you,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

Daryl wiggled it again, then turned it around to show it off in all it's ugly glory, “Turkey, Glenn. Freshly killed two days ago. Plucked it myself.”

“Really. Fucking. Hate. You.”

Daryl just laughed and slapped the bird down on the counter. In short order he had a full brace of knives out and started breaking it down. He apparently didn't want to bother with a twelve hour cook time and Glenn was annoyed enough with him not to care one way or the other. The turkey was so not the point.

“You could have said something,” he finally muttered, joining Daryl in the kitchen as he checked the fridge. He was going to have to do a quick shopping trip. “You know I went to a lawyer yesterday to see if she could track you down? I thought something happened to you.”

Daryl stilled for a second, then snorted disersively, “That was stupid. Why'd you go to a lawyer?”

“Because that's who Amy knew that could do background searches for free.” It had made sense at the time!

“Still stupid.” Daryl looked over at him and nudged him with an elbow as he passed, “I was jus' huntin'. I do that a few times a year. Thought turkey would be appropriate.”

Glenn wasn't feeling charitable, though, and continued to grumble at the man, “Still could have warned me. You were gone for almost a month.”

“Turkey's hard to get,” Daryl answered, voice a lot quieter. “Specially 'round this time. Everyone's going for it.”

“I don't care about the turkey!” Glenn snapped and stomped his way to the door. He missed the way Daryl's shoulders hunched up at the tone, tightening. “I'm going to the store. We need more food if we're going to make that a dinner tomorrow.” He didn't bother looking behind him before slamming it shut.

When he got back, Daryl wasn't there. Which he should have expected. But he was still disappointed. He'd had a chance to calm down and realize that Daryl had gone out of his way to get them a turkey for Thanksgiving. He'd really gone out of his way to hunt it down, during the height of the season, and bring it back so the two of them could share the holiday together. And while Glenn felt justified at being annoyed about the lack of warning, he also felt incredibly guilty for yelling at Daryl over it.

Glenn usually retreated into his room to sleep. Being a vampire didn't mean he was immune to being tired. What it did mean was that if he needed to he could keep going for a good week without actual rest. But there was no point pushing himself that way if he didn't have to. That night he decided he kind of had to. He wanted to be awake when Daryl got back.

And Daryl didn't get back until halfway through the day. Since most of the dishes Glenn had thought of were ones that took about an hour to cook and only forty five minutes or so to prep, he had not yet started on them. So when the sound of the keys in the lock reached his ears, Glenn had two beers ready and waiting.

Daryl came inside, dressed in what he'd been wearing the day before. He noticed Glenn standing there and looked away as fast as he could. Glenn could see the muscles in his neck flex as the man gulped down his unease. He stood there, in the doorway, for a long minute, looking awkward as hell.

Glenn smiled and held one of the beers a little further out, “You should probably shower and get changed. But you have plenty of time to do that before Amy and Andrea get here. Also, I got you a phone.”

Daryl's eyes flicked up for a second and he finally took one of the beers and shut the door, “A phone?”

“Yeah. I picked it up a couple weeks ago,” Glenn clarified in the hopes it would help Daryl relax. “Before I worked myself up thinking you'd been hit by a car or kidnapped or something and stupidly went to a lawyer in an attempt to find you.”

He was rewarded with a ghost of a smirk, “Still don't know why you didn't go ta the police if you were that worried.”

“Me and the cops don't really get along,” he admitted, cracking his own beer. “And I figured it would be better if it didn't get out that I had a technically illegal roommate.”

“An' you think a lawyer's any better?” Daryl was smiling full out now, pulling his jacket off, getting comfortable.

Glenn grinned and shrugged, “Legally, anything said between us is confidential. She can't tell on me.” 


	6. Earth Angel

Glenn came to slowly, a thumb pressing into his bottom lip and the hand attached to it limp over his cheek, fingers curled naturally into his chin and throat. The hand was Daryl's and the man was breathing in long, low rumbles. He was asleep. They had fallen asleep together. Another first for them.

His head rested on Daryl's thigh and his legs stretched out across the couch while Daryl's legs remained propped up on the coffee table. On the floor, where his own arm hung down, the can of beer he'd been nursing lay empty between his fingers. His own body was heavy with a comfortable fatigue and he felt like he could spend the day just as he was without it being a waste.

Daryl didn't make a habit of sleeping over. For the first few months he'd just come and spend hours to escape his other life. Clothes would be kept to change into after showers. But there'd be no sleeping. He hadn't trusted Glenn not to kill him while he was out.

That had changed at some point and Glenn honestly couldn't have said when. Maybe about the same time Glenn had stopped thinking of Daryl as blackmailing him and honestly considered him a friend. It was hard to say for sure. But sometime after Thanksgiving and before Christmas, Daryl had started falling asleep on the couch while Glenn was still home. And during that same time frame, Glenn had started to take liberties with how he leaned against Daryl and laid himself down on the couch. Eventually settling into a routine where Daryl would kick his feet up and Glenn would use his thighs as a pillow of sorts.

It only followed that at some point they'd eventually both fall asleep like that. It was a given. It was still a nice realization to wake up to. That Daryl trusted him so fully. And yeah... it meant he trusted Daryl that much, too.

Glenn reached up and laid one hand over Daryl's wrist while the other played with his fingers. He lifted that large, calloused hand up to look at it. Trace the lines that crossed over his palm before following them up each finger.

Daryl stirred and murmured, “If you're thinking about biting me, don't.”

It was sarcastic and without any real feeling to it. Just a bit of humor. Daryl didn't even bother to pull his hand away as he yawned. Glenn could feel his body shift some while he tried to stretch without dislodging him.

A lazy smile stretched his lips as he answered in a more introspective tone, “Wasn't thinking about it. Am now. You'd probably taste good.”

“Probably?” There was a soft snort and he actually sounded a little indignant.

Glenn leaned his head back just enough to look up at Daryl, grinning, “Only one way to find out.”

Daryl's blue eyes met his and they were just so blue. Glenn had noticed that before, plenty of times, but in the early morning light filtering in they just seemed all the bluer. So bright and lively. They weren't an ocean because oceans were too stormy and dark and Daryl's eyes weren't like that. A lagoon maybe. One so clear it reflected the sky perfectly and you couldn't tell one from the other when you looked out on the horizon.

Those eyes watched him in silence for a time before the brows over them scrunched just slightly. Curious. Considering. Glenn's eyes were drawn down to Daryl's lips as the man licked them, like he was making a decision.

“Okay.”

Glenn's gaze darted back up, blinking fast as confusion hit him. Okay? What did that mean? The grin he got made him feel like he was missing the obvious somehow. Daryl's low chuckle at his frown didn't help either.

“You can taste,” he clarified, moving his hand to slide his thumb over Glenn's lips. “Small bite. Nothing big.”

Glenn blinked again, eyes drifting down to the finger at his mouth. After a second he let out a soft 'oh', feeling as stupid as he probably looked. Because Glenn hadn't really been thinking about it. It'd been a joke. He wasn't going to bite Daryl. Daryl was... He wasn't food.

But he was offering. And he was waiting. His thumb rubbing Glenn's lower lip ever so lightly. Inviting the bite. He let his fangs fold down and held his mouth open. He didn't lean forward to bite and he kept his hands loose where they held Daryl's arm. Daryl ended up bringing his thumb forward and pressing it against the point of one fang, like pricking his finger on a needle.

Once he could smell the blood, Glenn leaned his head back to break contact and fold his fangs back up. He didn't need them down to suck on a wound that small. And he didn't need the temptation to make the wound bigger.

His tongue darted out and was met with Daryl's thumb pushing inward. Glenn let his lips fold over the finger as he started to suck on it. Lightly at first. Just a little, to get the blood staining his tongue. Then harder because it had been more than a few days since he'd fed and he was admittedly hungry.

Daryl's blood didn't taste that different than anyone else. Blood rarely tasted differently from person to person. Exceptions being those who had low iron or too much alcohol. In the former there was a lack of a 'tang' to it. A not entirely accurate description, but the best he could ever describe it. In the latter, it was like having a beer and blood at the same time. A nice buzz and one of the reasons he liked hitting up bars for his prey.

No, there was nothing unusual or special about Daryl's blood. But his thumb? The skin he was sucking on? Oh there was something special about that. There was dirt in the mix like there always was on a person. A little saltiness, especially right there at the inside of the knuckle crease. More at flap of skin that stretched between thumb and index finger. Only it was better than anyone he'd tasted like that in the last century.

Glenn sucked on it hard, tongue flattening out against it for a long count of three before he couldn't hold the suction any more. Daryl dragged his thumb out slowly. He let Glenn catch his teeth on the knuckle and then the nail. He let Glenn lift his head to follow it for an inch or so before trying to chase it would force him to give up his spot on the couch.

He didn't realize how heavily he was breathing until he let his head fall back. The air he didn't actually need filling his lungs like he'd just been drowning. His eyes shut of their own accord, gave him a moment or two to focus on calming his heart and try to stop what blood was in his system from going a lot further south than he needed it to go.

“That good, huh?” Daryl's quiet drawl broke Glenn out of his revelry.

He gulped, licked his own very dry lips, and nodded. He kept his eyes shut. He didn't need Daryl knowing what else he wanted to start sucking on. He didn't need Daryl to clam up again out of nerves. He didn't need whatever spell had come over the man that morning to break. What he needed was for him and Daryl to stay like they were. Just as they were. Where he could suck on the man's thumb and not have him cracking some comment to deflect and remove the strange intimacy they were currently sharing.

Glenn smiled ruefully, making it clear he was joking as he said, “Yeah. That or I'm just that desperate after not eating for a week.”

There wasn't an immediate answer and he eventually opened his eyes to see Daryl frowning at him in concern. Feeling quite suddenly guilty for no reason – really he had no reason at all to feel guilty about going so long without feeding – he looked away while his hands unconsciously tightened on Daryl's hand and wrist. But he could feel Daryl still frowning at him, still staring, and within moments he was babbling, “It's not a big deal. It's just harder to convince people to let me make out with them when they're bundled up for the cold. I mean, the winters here are pretty mild, all things considered, but people still get more bundled up. Long sleeves and extra layers. Lifting shirts and pulling collars down just makes them shiver. And not in the good way. They want to keep it all to kisses and heavy petting through shirts or pants. I'll find someone next week. I still have time before my body starts shutting down.”

“Your body shuts down?” the smoke-roughed voice murmured softly over him and there was concern there that Glenn shouldn't have been surprised to hear. But he was. That part of being a vampire had never been discussed. Why he still ate and drank and did so many regular human things that he didn't technically need to. Why he still breathed so heavily.

Glenn didn't really want to go into it, but Daryl was looking at him. That steady gaze he could feel boring into him. He sighed loudly and pushed himself up. Broke the spell of comfortable companionship so he didn't have to feel the other man pressed against him as he answered. Because he was going to answer. Even if he didn't want to talk about it, it was better if Daryl knew.

“Yeah,” he muttered, leaning himself against the other side of the couch. “Vampires don't need to do all the stuff I usually do. Not really. Eating, drinking, breathing... the only thing we need is enough blood to keep our hearts pumping so we can move our limbs and our muscles don't atrophy from disuse. Thing is... we're dead. Really, really dead.”

Glenn looked over at Daryl from under dark lashes, keeping his head low and turned just slightly away from him. Watched for any reactions. “Our bodies just don't realize it. Hershel explained that to me. My creator, he never explained anything. I went on instinct for close to two hundred years and I'm really lucky I never found out the hard way before Hershel came along. But... thing is, we have to... we have to trick our bodies into not realizing they're dead. We keep using the parts and our bodies will keep going like everything is normal. But once a part shuts down, it's down for good.

“If I stopped breathing, to the point of my lungs stopping, either through drowning or suffocation, I'd still keep going. But my lungs wouldn't. They'd just stop and stay stopped. I wouldn't even be able to pretend to breathe. They wouldn't work anymore. They'd atrophy and eventually start to decay. The only internal organs a vampire actually needs to keep going are the heart and brain.”

He looked down at his hands, Daryl's nearly impassive stare making him nervous. For all appearances he hadn't reacted at all. “Once all the other organs shut down, vampires become a lot more like the stories picture us. Gaunt, pale, cold to the touch except after we feed. We're clearly dead. We can't really feel anything, either. We can lose our senses. Touch and smell mostly. Fresh blood, the feeding, that keeps us going since we can't produce blood of our own anymore. It tricks the body into staying as close to living as we'll ever be again.

“If we stop feeding at all, our bodies will... Hershel did that. After Maggie and Beth didn't... he just stopped. He wouldn't eat, he wouldn't drink, and he wouldn't take any of the blood I tried to give him. His reasons to keep going were gone and he just... After three months he couldn't move even if he wanted to. He was still in there. Trapped in his own head. But his body was too stiff. It had forgotten how to move and his muscles were so deteriorated that it didn't matter anymore. He asked me not to give him a final death. He wanted to exist like that for as long as possible. Before his brain and heart both rotted and he died of decomposition.”

Glenn shut up. Kept his eyes down. Daryl had known he was technically dead, but he was pretty sure Daryl had never really understood what that meant before. The stories about vampires had never really gotten it right. What kept them going was blood, but it wasn't like they could just sleep for an eternity and be fine when they woke up. They were still a part of the world. Whatever it was that kept them going, whatever it was that gave them fangs and their 'powers', it wasn't completely unnatural. There were rules, same as all living things.

There was silence between them for a good five minutes before Daryl fished a cigarette out of the nearest pack and lit up. He took a long drag and finally spoke. Voice just as soft as it had been, tone even, “How long can you go? Between uh... feeding? Before you have to let something shut down?”

“About two weeks.”

“And it's been a week?”

“Yeah.”

Glenn felt him move rather than saw him. The cushions shifting, rising and falling as Daryl scooted over. His arm, dirtier than it should be, was held over Glenn's lap with his wrist offered up, “Don't take a lot.”

Glenn didn't.

 


	7. Mysterious Ways

It was early in the new year when the fights started. Little things at first. Then bigger. Then smaller again. Pettier. Stupid shit that didn't really matter but were ways for Daryl to lash out at him. The toilet paper one was where things came to a head.

Daryl would never put the new roll on the holder when it the last one ran out. He'd just pull a fresh roll and set up so it was sitting on top of the holder. Rested on the cardboard roll that remained of the previous one. Glenn commented about it more and more because really, it was just annoying. And it wasn't that hard to switch out.

“Literally less than three seconds,” he complained, exasperated as he barged past the man and to the other side of the bathroom while Daryl brushed his teeth. He'd already dressed after his shower. Glenn had waited until he heard the water running in the sink to knock and open the door. He hadn't been intending to go off about the toilet paper, he just noticed it while he was asking about dinner plans for the next couple days. Since Daryl had gotten himself a new job at a motorcycle shop and his schedule was still pretty day to day they didn't plan that far ahead grocery wise.

But then he'd spied that new, freshly unwrapped roll of toilet paper sitting upright on top of the old one. And seriously! “Less that three seconds!” he reiterated as he demonstrated. “And it's not even time you're wasting after you take a shit! You can do it while you're sitting on the pot! You can multi-task!”

Daryl spit the foamy remains of paste and water out of his mouth and rinsed his brush, “I can't never get the holder back in place.”

Glenn stared at him open mouthed for a second, then sat on the toilet (after putting the lid down) and reached over, “Okay, then I'll show you. You put your fingers-”

“I know how it's done!” Daryl snapped, his toothbrush coming down hard on the edge of the sink along with his hands. He glared over at Glenn, “And it's stupid. It's just paper. Get over it.”

“It takes like two seconds!” Glenn said, voice stuck somewhere between whining and pleading.

“I don't fucking care how long it takes!” Daryl answered, yelling this time as he stomped out of the room. “It's not important!”

Glenn stared after him, the anger over a thousand little slights reaching it's tipping point inside him. He stood up and stomped after the other man, not wanting to let this go, “Then why can't you do it?! I just showed you how!”

Daryl rounded on him, pointing a finger in his face, “Back the fuck off, Glenn!”

“No!” he shouted back and reached out to grab Daryl by the front of his shirt. He wasn't trying to be intimidating, but he was pissed. “You back the fuck off! This is my apartment! If I want you to put the fucking toilet paper on the fucking holder, you need to put it on the fucking holder!”

“Get the hell off me!” Daryl jerked away from him, practically spasming with the effort, and his shirt ripped with it. He didn't really notice until he was five feet away, plastered against the fridge and panting. Looking for all the world like a wounded animal.

There was something strange in his eyes that Glenn didn't recognize. Anger, sure, but also fear. Panic maybe? Glenn's shoulders relaxed as his own temper drained away in his confusion at the way Daryl was looking at him. The other man's shoulders were hunched inward. His body trying to curl in on itself but not being allowed to. Like he was fighting with himself to remain upright and standing, even if the had to cling to the fridge to do so.

Glenn's arms dropped, the tatters of the shirt leaving fingers suddenly gone limp while his eyes widened. He couldn't help that. Not once they left Daryl's face and moved downward to his chest and what little he could see of his side. There were scars. A lot of scars. The kind of scars a person did not get from just living, even if he did live somewhere in the woods. Lines were too even. Too parallel.

Daryl eventually straightened his shoulders, though it took him some time, and pulled what he could of his shirt over himself to cover up. He didn't look at Glenn anymore. He kept his eyes down. He stood far too still, pressed against the fridge like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to move away.

Glenn licked his lips and gulped when he realized Daryl was closing himself off emotionally. Putting himself somewhere mentally where he could endure the pain he expected to lash across him at any time. He only recognized it because of how his creator had been. How Glenn had once been under that man's cruel hand just to survive those first few decades. Fight or flight didn't always apply. Sometimes you just froze and let whatever was happening, happen.

His limbs felt like they were stuck in molasses as he moved from the kitchen to the dresser they'd put in the living room for Daryl's clothes. He was pretty much living there, so it had seemed the thing to do. And at the moment Glenn was glad for it. It meant he didn't have to leave Daryl's sight and Daryl wouldn't leave his. Daryl looked to be at that point where he was cowed so long as he was in the same room as the perceived threat, but would run if he had the chance. Glenn had to get him away from there.

He pulled a new shirt out, one of the larger, baggier ones he knew Daryl favored for hanging out at home. When he turned back to look at Daryl again, Daryl's head had come up to watch him warily. He wasn't looking straight on, though. Still had his head at an angle and his eyes never quite reached Glenn's face. They focused more on where his feet went and what his hands were doing.

Glenn crossed the room again, slowly, and stopped two feet out from Daryl. He held the shirt out with both hands and hung his head, “Sorry for yelling. And for ripping your shirt. I'll get you another one.”

His actions seemed to snap Daryl out of his headspace because in the next moment Daryl was back in fighting form. He was in Glenn's face, forehead to forehead, growling out curses and threats and that if Glenn ever touched him like that again he'd get his ass beat. Glenn took it without looking up. Daryl was scared and venting and he wasn't actually doing anything to him. Just yelling. Trying to get back some semblance of control over his life.

When Daryl finally broke off, Glenn waited until he was pulling on his boots to murmur, “I'm not really mad about the toilet paper. Please don't leave.”

Daryl stilled, back to him, all tense lines and stiff shoulders. Glenn could hear his breathing hitch with a ragged intake of air and a shuddering exhale before he spoke, tone gruff and mean, “Fuck off.”

He slammed the door when he left.

…

Glenn let one day of Daryl being gone pass before he called Andrea up about finding out about Daryl's previous residence and anything she could about his family. Where he'd been before. What his brother was like beyond 'chronically jailed' and 'racist'. If his father was still alive. Anything and everything she could. She was surprised to hear from him, but said she could probably look into it in the next couple weeks. Glenn thanked her and tried not to sound desperate.

After he was done calling her, he texted Daryl.

_(GR)I'm sorry. Please come home._

He texted Daryl once that day. Then twice the next. The same message as before.

On the fourth day he added:

_(GR)I'm worried about you._

On the fifth day, his text was answered. But not by Daryl.

_(DD) This his girlfriend? That bitch he been living with but won't tell his dear old brother nothing about? What you do bitch? Spit it out on him?_

Glenn stared at his phone for a long time, worry bleeding into anger. It wasn't the response he wanted, but it was the only one he was getting.

_(GR)Is he alright?_

_(DD)Oh he's fine. Doing just peachy. Blowing up some rabbit brains as we speak. You know he don't got no pictures of you in this thing? You should send a picture. Let old Merle see who his baby brother's shacking up with._

_(GR)Where are you?_

_(DD)Pictures first sugartits._

_(GR)Fuck off. Where is he?_

_(DD)You suck my brother's dick with that mouth?_

_(GR)I want to talk to Daryl._

Glenn expected another text back, but instead his phone rang. It was from 'DD'. Which meant it was from Merle. Snarling to himself, he answered, “Go get Daryl and put him on the phone, asshole.”

“You ain't a girl?” was the wonderfully articulate answer he got back and Glenn had to take a moment to process the strange tone he was hearing. Like the man on the other side really had thought he'd be talking to a woman.

“No, dumbass, I'm not a girl,” Glenn sighed, letting his head drop into his free hand. His emotions flip-flopped on him again and in the next moment he just felt sick. Drained and exhausted, but sick from all the worrying. “Is Daryl really okay? He was mad when he left.”

There was quiet for a time, but Glenn could hear the other man breathing so he knew he hadn't been hung up on. It took a while for him to respond. When he did it was cautious. Confused. But strangely open, “Yeah. Mostly. He's upset over what happened 'tween you two. What did happen, anyway? He won't tell me nothin'.”

“We had a fight,” he answered with another sigh. “About toilet paper. It was stupid. I grabbed his shirt and... I shouldn't have. I tried to apologize.”

“You touched him?” the tone was dangerous now.

Shit, Glenn thought, Merle just had be the overly protective type of brother, didn't he?

“No,” he said aloud. “I just grabbed his shirt. He pulled away. It ripped. He got pissed at me, yelled, then left.”

“What? Was it his favorite shirt?” Merle sounded confused, like he genuinely didn't realize the problem wasn't the ripped shirt but what Glenn had seen under it. Though, if he'd been assuming Daryl and Glenn were doing more than just living together, it stood to reason that he probably assumed Glenn already knew about the scars. Which added a new layer of shit to the whole shit pile.

He rubbed his face again and sighed, “I don't think so. It was... we've been fighting a lot lately. Over stupid bullshit. He gets mad and it gets me mad and we go off on each other. Yelling. Just yelling. Then a couple hours later we're good again. Laughing, spending the night in front of the television. Watching that stupid movie he likes.”

“On Golden Pond?”

“Yeah, that's the one.”

Merle laughed and in the background Glenn could hear Daryl shouting for his brother. Merle shouted back, “Hold your horses, Darleena! I'm on the phone!” There was another exchange from Daryl, but it was too muffled for Glenn to hear.

When Merle spoke to him again, his voice was a lot quieter, like he was trying to whisper conspiratorially, “Alright, Daryl's back with dinner. Don't got much time. Do me a favor and give me your address real quick. Before he's done skinning the catch.”

Glenn pulled the phone away from his ear to stare at it like the phone itself was responsible for what he'd just heard, “What? No.”

“Aw, come on now. We're friends, ain't we?” Merle wheedled in a tone that was probably meant to sound sweet. “Practically brother-in-laws, what with you two being the way you are. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't rightly approve of that, but Daryl's sweet on you in a way he ain't been sweet on no one in years. So I'm willing to put up with it. But you got to work with me for me to work with you. Tell me where you're- Dammit Daryl! I said I'm on the phone! Don't fucking come in here! I'm with a girl! Give a man his privacy!”

Glenn didn't know who sounded more disgusted at the implications of that: himself or Daryl, who he could hear cursing up a storm in the background.

“Where were we?” Merle drawled out a few moments later, after Daryl's voice moved off. “Oh yeah. Your address. Come on, now. I ain't gonna do nothin' bad with it. Just want to pay my baby brother a visit sometime.”

Glenn really didn't want to give it, but he also wanted to talk to Daryl. So he offered a compromise, “If I give you it, will you get Daryl to come home by Friday?”

Merle didn't answer immediately, and Glenn could only assume he was thinking it over, “Suppose I can do that. Might be comin' down with a cold anyway.”

Glenn gave him the address and a murmured 'Thank you' he wasn't sure the other man heard before he hung up. At least he knew Daryl was alive and okay.

…

Three hours later it finally registered that Merle thought he and Daryl were _together_ together. And by implication it had been because of how Daryl was talking about them, not just because they were roommates. Which was...

Were they _together_ together? Did Daryl want to be? It wasn't like they'd ever done anything. Except that one time Daryl let him feed from him. And that barely counted because it had only been Daryl's thumb being sucked on while Daryl looked at him with those soft, beautiful eyes of his. And maybe there had been something to how Daryl let him sleep on him when they shared the couch. And maybe there was also something to how Daryl waited up for him to get back from his late-nights at bars and whatever one-night-stand he'd found to drink from. Three AM, beer at the ready, and a movie waiting to be started so they could chat about whatever person had caught his attention. Something Daryl really didn't need to do, especially when it was obvious Daryl wasn't trying to live vicariously through is 'conquests'. How he'd be interested in hearing what they looked like, talked like, what made Glenn pick them out in a crowd.

“Oh my god...” Glenn's hands went to his face and he came to the very sudden realization that for the last three months _(at least)_  Daryl had been fucking _flirting_ with him and he'd been completely oblivious.


	8. I Can't Get No

Friday arrived way too slowly. It was only three days, but it crawled by like molasses in winter. Five minutes were forever and a day. Five seconds could have been an hour. Glenn was distracted at both school and his job. To the point that he was asked to take time off by the latter because he screwed up three deliveries in a row and his boss was concerned he'd come down with something. He didn't argue with the assessment.

But he was left with barely anything to occupy his time or his mind. He tried going out and finding someone to take him home. Someone to feed off of and get that out of the way before Daryl got back. If he got back. Only he found he couldn't bring himself to show enough interest in anyone. Even when one of his previous hook-ups recognized him and came over to flirt. He was forced to apologize when it got awkward. He almost made an excuse, that he was sick like his job thought, but ended up confessing that he was hung up on someone and may have blown his chances. He got a sympathy pat on the back and a beer and was left alone. More than he deserved really.

He cleaned the apartment eight times. He was tempted to move Daryl's things into the bedroom. And did, twice. But he put them back because there was no guarantee Daryl would even be interested in sharing the bed with him after what he'd done. The was no guaranteeing that Daryl would even be back by Friday. There was no guaranteeing Merle would do what he agreed to on the phone.

Most of Friday was spent between pacing, sitting on the couch watching the door, and cooking. Cooking because if Daryl did come back during one of the main meal times, Glenn wanted it sitting and waiting for him like the man had never left. He wanted Daryl to walk through the door and feel like he was home again. Breakfast was a waste. Lunch, too. Dinner didn't happen.

At ten to midnight, while Glenn sat on the couch watching the minutes tick by, the door rattled. Keys were being turned in the lock. He was on his feet and wrenching it open before Daryl could. Except it wasn't Daryl who looked back at him from across the threshold. It was Merle.

The man eyed Glenn up and down, squinting at him. Studying him.

Glenn's shoulders dropped and he sagged into the door, “He's not coming back, is he?”

Merle didn't answer right away and Glenn wasn't surprised at that. It was pretty obvious Daryl had decided to end it. Whatever 'it' was. The fighting had gone too far. Glenn had gone too far. Daryl had always been withdrawn and Glenn had ignored that in his anger.

He left the door open and Merle standing there behind it. He went to the dresser where Daryl's things were. He stood there, staring down at it. Merle didn't follow. He wasn't surprised by that either.

“Uh... if he sent you for his stuff,” Glenn started, stammering a little as he felt tears start to well up behind his words, “It's mostly in here. The rest is in the coat closet. I can... I can get... from the bathroom... his toothbrush and razor.” He looked up at Merle and the expression on the man's face hadn't changed. So Glenn shrugged and let his head fall back down again, “I'll go do that. Sorry you have to... thanks for coming, I guess.”

His hand was on the door to the bathroom when Merle finally spoke, “I know you.”

Glenn cringed internally and let his hand drop as he turned around, “Yeah. You do. That's kind of how Daryl and I met.”

“He said he met you in July,” was the cautious and irritated response.

Glenn shrugged, “Technically, that's true? I mean, he saw me knock you out and I didn't see him in the truck. But then he saw me again a couple months later and we started talking.”

“That so?” Merle moved to step into the apartment finally. He glanced around without any real interest. Did it out of habit, probably.

“Yeah,” he answered. He didn't see a reason to elaborate on how Daryl had followed him for those two months. How he'd hunted him the same as he would any animal. It didn't really matter anymore. Hadn't for a long time.

Merle moved over to the TV and ran his fingers along the side. Gave a low whistle as if impressed with it. He might actually be for all Glenn knew. It was 64 inches. The sound system attached was just as nice. Glenn enjoyed gaming on it and Daryl enjoyed his old movies. Had enjoyed them.

“Look, I don't really mind you being here, but if he's going to end it this way, I'd rather just get it over with,” he sighed, not bothering to keep the hurt from his tone. Like they'd been more than a what-if? to each other. Merle already thought they were together. So it wasn't like it mattered if they'd never gotten to that point.

“He ain't ending it with you,” Merle answered with a snort, still looking around at all the stuff Daryl had gotten Glenn to buy for them. “He's asleep in the truck. Doesn't even know we're here. Wiped himself out so I offered to drive. Thinks I was taking him back to our daddy's place.”

Glenn just stared at him. It was hard to process that. Daryl wasn't ending it. He wasn't. Merle wasn't there to take his stuff. His heart soared. He still had a chance to make things right. Then reality settled. Because even if Daryl wasn't ending it, he also hadn't wanted to come back.

“So why are you here?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest to hold himself.

Merle gave a shrug of his own as he turned to head into the kitchen, “I made a deal with you. Got him back by Friday like promised. And I wanted to see what kind of place my baby brother was calling home now. What kind of faggot ass boyfriend he had. Didn't know you were a chink.”

Glenn rolled his eyes at the attempt to bait him, “Korean.”

“Whatever. Still a rice eater,” Merle replied far more calmly than he had the night they'd met. The man made his way back to the living room and stood at arms length from Glenn, staring at the couch. “You been putting my brother on the couch?”

“It's where he picked to sleep,” Glenn sighed. “Look, I don't know what he told you but we aren't... I mean, I wouldn't mind... but the two of us... we've never...”

“You calling my brother a liar?” It was said with a raised eyebrow and an incredulous look.

Glenn shook his head, “I really don't know what he told you so I couldn't say if I am.”

Merle gave him another once over before heading to the fridge and helping himself to the beer. He popped the top and took a long drink, then dragged the rest of the six pack out with his free hand. Made his way to the couch and then made himself comfortable. He gestured at the door, which still stood open. Glenn rolled his eyes again and went to close it.

“Sit down, chinaman, pull up a chair,” he waved his hand toward the kitchen. “We gots to have a discussion, me and you. Some rules to establish.”

…

It was close to five in the morning when Daryl slammed the door open, panting like he'd run all four flights of stairs in less than a minute, taking the steps two at a time the whole way up. He was met with Merle and Glenn sitting on the couch, the first six pack gone and the two of them half way through a second. Glenn wouldn't exactly describe them as getting along, but they weren't killing each other. And Merle seemed to have some healthy respect for the fact that Glenn had knocked him out in a single blow the year before.

“About time you woke your faggot ass up, Darleena,” Merle hooted at his brother, grabbing an unopened can. He tossed it across the room and Daryl caught it out of reflex.

“Close the door,” Glenn added, not bothering to get up. He did, however, scoot closer to the side of the couch so there was room for Daryl to sit.

Daryl, however, had other plans. He did shut the door, but he stayed where he was in front of it. Started to pace slowly, eyes staying on his brother for the most part. Only occasionally darting over to Glenn.

Merle stared back with a shit-eating grin, “Got yourself a nice place. Should have invited ol' Merle over a lot sooner.”

Daryl remained silent and Glenn got the feeling a lot of their exchanges went like that. With Merle looking smug and in control while Daryl edged back and forth like a caged animal not quite backed into a corner.

“Didn't tell me your girlfriend's the chink that got a lucky shot on me,” Merle continued on as though words had been exchanged. “Or that she ain't exactly a girl. Now why would you lie to your brother like that, Daryl? Why would you keep something so important from me?”

“You know why!” Daryl snarled, body trembling. His eyes darted between Glenn and Merle, “How'd you find this place?”

Glenn leaned back, stretched an arm out, and saluted him with his can, “I gave him the address.”

Daryl's eyes locked onto him, wide and disbelieving, “When?”

“When you wouldn't answer his texts,” Merle answered for him, still smug. “Thought it best you didn't ignore your girlfriend, so I answered for you. We had a nice chat, then. We had a longer one tonight. Seems you been keeping secrets from both of us. That's not nice.”

Daryl gulped and Glenn felt a twinge of remorse for the game he and Merle were playing with him. He finished off the can and set it down, “You can relax. We're not going to bite.” A beat later, Glenn grinned, “Well, Merle probably won't. I wouldn't mind another taste.”

His reward for the snark was Daryl hiding his face while Merle gagged and slapped his shoulder, “Shut up with that crap. I don't need to hear that. Disgusting.”

“But he tastes so good, Merle,” Glenn coo'd, eyes staying on Daryl and his smile widening as one started to form on the other man's lips. “I could just sink my teeth in him right now.”

“No. Not happening,” Merle shook his head and pushed himself off the couch. He downed the rest of his own can and leaned over Glenn, pointing at him. “You already agreed. No funny business when I'm around. I don't want to see that shit.”

Daryl snorted, reaching back to open the door, his confidence coming back, “Then you best leave. Cause I ain't seen my gir- boyfriend for going on a week now and we got a lot of making up to do.”

“Not you, too,” his brother groaned, standing up. “Here I am, being nice, and you have to ruin it with that kind of talk.”

“You the one that brought me here,” Daryl snapped at him, annoyance starting to show. “You knew what you was doing.”

Merle made another face and snatched the keys off the coffee table, “I'm gonna get breakfast. Whatever you two do, I don't want to know, but it better be done in an hour. That's all I'm giving you.”

After he was gone, door firmly shut behind him, Glenn grinned up at Daryl, “Boyfriend, huh?”

Daryl licked his lips and shuffled his feet nervously before letting out a puff of air, “You uh... that biting thing... you fed since I left, right?”

The attempt to deflect the discussion was obvious. But Glenn figured he could use it to his advantage anyway. He shook his head and patted the couch next to him, “Didn't have any luck this week. Would you mind?”

Daryl hesitated for only a moment before crossing the small space and shrugging off his jacket. He was just starting to roll up his sleeve when Glenn slipped a leg over his lap to straddle his hips. He knew this had a very strong chance of backfiring on him, which was why he didn't give himself a chance to back out of it. His fangs were already out and Daryl was stunned by him climbing on just long enough for him to push the other man back and open up his shirt collar. His teeth sunk into Daryl's neck with a groan that was equal parts satisfied hunger and very unsatisfied arousal.


	9. It's In His Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short and dirty

“Like what you see?” The woman turned her head, voice sultry, heavy with lust.

Ocean met earth over the soft swell of a breast. Glenn slid his tongue in a languid trail from nipple to neck, teasing the man watching them more than he was the woman under his hands. Another tongue made it's appearance, wetting wind-chapped lips that would rather be scratching roughly over the man in the bed than hanging open and empty with anticipation. The shyness that had first defined their relationship long since burned away.

Glenn let his eyes drop to the woman and he smiled at her like she was the only thing he cared about and they weren't putting on a show for his lover. She leaned up to try and kiss him, but he met it with a finger and shook his head. His lips descended instead to her neck where they pressed hard, tongue working the skin below so it would bruise. It would hurt and she would love it. Would barely feel the pinch as his fangs came out and sunk into her neck. They disappeared in the next moment but gave him the blood he sought to draw out of her. Daryl's breath hitched and Glenn smiled as he sucked.

They'd done this enough over the last year that Glenn knew it looked like Daryl was watching the both of them with the same intensity. But it was never the woman or man under Glenn that his boyfriend paid any mind to. It was always Glenn. The meal never mattered in the long run. They were just there so Glenn didn't drain Daryl to the point of weakness with regular feeding. Turning it sexual was a matter of trust and convenience. Convenience because it was always easier to get someone willing to do blood- and vampire-play if they made it sexual. Trust because Daryl hated the idea of Glenn being with someone else and the possibility that his thoughts would be of that person. With him there, he had proof that Glenn thought only of him.

He could see it in Glenn's eyes. He could see the promise to reenact whatever it was he did to their partner on Daryl afterwards. The promise to make it properly intimate. Just them. Always them.

Daryl never did anything while Glenn worked. He just sat and watched. Never touched himself. Never let himself get release while there was a third in the room. He'd usually light a cigarette and lean back in the chair. Sometimes he'd speak if spoken to. Sometimes he'd order Glenn around. Tell him exactly what to do to their lucky third wheel.

Glenn broke contact with the woman's neck as she slipped her fingers into his hair and let out a long, low moan. Daryl flicked the ashes of his cigarette onto the floor before taking another drag. He licked his lips again and smirked, “Sure do.”

 


End file.
